Aiden’s POV
I pushed my chair back from the table, the soft scrape of wood on marble echoing through the opulent living room. My parents and I sat in silence, the only sound was the clinking of silverware on fine china.
My father's eyes narrowed, his gaze piercing as he watched me. My mother's expression was equally tense, her lips pursed as she delicately sliced into her omelette. The air was thick with unspoken words, the weight of their expectations settling heavy on my shoulders.
I focused on my plate, the fluffy eggs and crispy bacon blurring together as I tried to avoid eye contact. The maids moved quietly around the table, refilling coffee cups and removing empty plates.
My father cleared his throat, the sound like a crack of thunder in the strained silence.
"Aiden," he began,
